


Rebuilding

by MagicMysticFantasy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gen, Harry Potter Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Hogwarts, Hurt/Comfort, Magic Crafting, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Runes, Slow Build, Slow Burn, spells
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-17 01:58:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8125966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicMysticFantasy/pseuds/MagicMysticFantasy
Summary: After the war is finished at the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry and his friends are trying to put their lives back together even as they grieve for the ones they lost. Harry has been struggling to move on from the past, and has been dealing with nightmares and flashbacks. After attending a trial, Harry decides that the distraction he needs is to help rebuild Hogwarts, and thus begins a chain reaction that changes things for everyone.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or its characters, only my original ideas.
> 
> Note: Feel free to leave a comment! They make my day when they are good, and show me how to improve when they aren't. Thanks, and enjoy!

Chapter 1

 

Harry wandered through the ruins of the castle he had lived in for past six years. Aside from the crackling of lingering flames, it was silent. Ash drifted to the ground and rubble was everywhere. Harry hadn't seen a single other person in hours. He was alone in the ruins of his home. If he thought about it, he probably could have made a symbolic comparison between the crumbling school and his lost childhood innocence, but his mind felt strangely disconnected from his surroundings.

He found himself in what used to be the Great Hall, and saw the shattered tables, the missing decorations, the ruined walls. It hurt to see what his favorite place in the world had been reduced to. Harry's eyes drifted through the room as he walked the perimeter. As he rounded a particularly large bit of rubble, Harry's eyes widened in horror as he saw dozen's of corpses laid out in neat rows. They were clean of all blood, and their clothes were immaculate as they lay with their eyes closed and arms crossed across their chests.

His eyes scanned their faces, and he immediately recognized them as his classmates. Harry's heart nearly stopped as he caught sight of a particular group of bodies that made up his best friends and self-made family. He began running towards them, but in his detached state, it felt strange. It was like when he was playing a game on Dudley's computer and it ran slow, causing the characters to blip from one location to the next to the next until they reached their goal.

Harry crashed to his knees beside them, and he starred in shock at the pale and lifeless faces of Hermione and Ron. They had died in the battle after all, his sacrifice hadn't saved them in the end. He looked further, and saw Remus and Tonks laying beside each other, a small baby between them that seemed to be theirs. He saw the Weasley twins, their other siblings and parents, Luna, Neville, Dean and Seamus, and dozens of others he had become friends with over the years.

It all made a strange, horrible sense. They were all his friends, and he had failed to save them. Because they were his friends, they had been targeted by the Death Eaters and Voldemort. The scene made a strange, horrible sense until he saw Draco Malfoy among the dead, his arms crossed, his clothing clean, and appearance as immaculate as the rest.

Harry frowned. That wasn't right. He and Ron and Hermione had saved him and Goyle twice before Harry had even gone out into the forest. They had left the pair in a safe hallway away from the fight, and neither had looked like they were about to seek out any more conflict for a while. Harry had even told Narcissa that her son was safe after he'd died and come back to life, and Malfoy had been when he'd told her that. So when had he died?

Keeping his eyes on his rival, Harry stood and walked down the row of people towards him. Malfoy came from a family within Voldemort's inner circle, so other Death Eaters wouldn't have killed him. Harry also couldn't imagine any of the students killing one of their own during the battle. Knock out or injure, sure. But kill? No. So who had killed him, and when had he died?

Harry soon reached the other boy. He scanned him for any sign of injury, but like all the others, he bore no physical mark of injury. Curious and perplexed, Harry knelt down beside Malfoy to try and figure out what killed him. He reached out his hand (to look for what, he wasn't yet sure, but he had to look for _something_ ) but when his hand was only several inches away from touching Malfoy, it was seized in a vice-like grip.

His gaze shot up to meet the cold silver of his rival's now-open eyes. His face was twisted in rage and hate and fear. Harry tried to move away, but Malfoy's grip on his hand held him in place. Harry tried to pull free, but it was like a Permanent Sticking Charm had been used on the places where their hands met. Suddenly afraid, Harry looked back up at Malfoy just in time to see him sit up.

“It's your fault you know.” His voice was quiet as he hissed out the accusation at Harry. “It's your fault we died.  _Precious_ Potter with his  _precious_ friends and  _precious_ life had to try to be the hero. Heroes may hold back darkness, but they leave a trail of  _rubble_ and  _ pain _ and  _death_ behind them.” Malfoy's eyes were accusing as he stared at Harry. Harry shook his head.

“No. No! I didn't mean to! I tried to save you all. I did! I didn't ask for any of this, and I didn't  _want_ it! I didn't have a choice, I couldn't just walk away when I could try to stop him from killing everyone who ever mattered to me! I didn't mean to kill you!” Malfoy's glare intensified at that, and his voice rose as he responded.

“ You did have a choice! Do you hear me? It's your fault we're dead! You chose to be a hero, and didn't think twice about the danger you put the rest of us in! It's your fault Dumbledore and your friends all died! It's  _your fault_ I had to serve the Dark Lord!  _It's your fault I had to become a Death Eater!_ IT'S YOUR FAULT! DO YOU HEAR ME? IT'S YOUR FAULT!”

Malfoy launched forward as he began screaming, his hands reaching for Harry's throat. Memories of the Inferi at the lake suddenly surfaced in Harry's mind, and he tried to scramble away, but his feet refused to move. He could only watch in fear as Malfoy drew closer and closer as his hands reached to choke him. The blazing silver of his furious gaze grew bigger and bigger until it was all Harry could see. Just when Malfoy's fingers brushed his neck, Harry bolted upright.

His emerald eyes darted frantically around the dark room as his hand brandished his wand in front of him. He was confused for a moment until he recognized his surroundings as his room in the apartment he had gotten himself several weeks ago. His heart began to slow again as he realized that it had just been a dream. Harry closed his eyes and heaved a sigh as he flopped back down onto his bed.

This was the fifth time he'd had a nightmare like that this week, and it was only Wednesday. He'd been having them ever since Voldemort had been defeated. Sometimes it was Ron, or Fred, or Tonks, or even Snape who was accusing him. The most common face of his accuser though was Malfoy. Harry had tried to analyze what the dreams and Malfoy's role in them meant, but he was so exhausted from the lack of sleep that his thoughts had become muddled rather quickly.

Sighing again, Harry ran a hand over his face and glanced at the clock on the wall. Three forty-two in the morning. Well, it was better than the past couple of nights. He'd almost made it until four this time. Harry took another moment to lie in bed before swinging his legs down to the floor with a groan.

By now Harry knew the drill. Once he was awake from a nightmare, he wouldn't be able to fall back asleep again until the next evening, no matter how tired he was. So he decided to take a shower before deciding on what he was planning on doing for the rest of the day. If he couldn't sleep, he might as well wake up fully.

As he showered, he thought about the real state of things in the wizarding world, not the one his mind had conjured up. Hogwarts was actually still in ruins, but that was more due to a lack of manpower than anything else. The Ministry was working overtime in an attempt to repair the damage done by Voldemort and his followers. There were many empty positions where spies and puppets had been placed by the Death Eaters and their master, so they were short on enough staff from the start.

There were Aurors out searching for more of the enemy forces at pretty much every hour of the day. Dozens of trials were being held every day for the ones they did track down and bring in. There was also the matter of recording all of the dead and finding those who were missing. Hundreds of people were also trying to contact their families now that it was safe to, and others were clamoring at the Ministry for news and answers.

Among Harry's own friends, things were rather quiet. The Weasleys were grieving for the loss of Fred and their friends, and most needed some time to recover from the war. Harry understood completely. He was in the same boat as far as time was concerned, and if his dreams were anything to go by, he was also grieving in his own way.

Hermione had gone to Australia to track down her parents and fix their memories so they could return home. Harry knew that she was going to have some bridges to repair, because her parents probably wouldn't appreciate having their memories altered, however good Hermione's intentions had been when she'd done so. Still, Hermione had known she had to go, and had left as soon as she could to start her search.

All of Harry's other still-living friends were with their families, taking comfort with them as they too recovered. Harry had quietly sent a letter to his aunt, uncle, and cousin telling them that it was safe to return home, and that he wouldn't be coming back to live with them anymore. He told them they were welcome to write him back if they ever wanted news or just to talk. He didn't think that they would take him up on that offer anytime soon, but figured he'd offer it anyway.

The water going cold alerted Harry that he'd gotten lost in thought again, and he shut it off before stepping out of the shower and grabbing a towel. He'd been doing that a lot recently. It was a fairly new development in the course of things, but seemed to be most prominent in the early hours of the morning after he woke up from his nightmares. Harry would start thinking about something and before he knew it four hours would have passed and he was thinking about something completely different than he had before.

Harry made his way back into his room and got dressed, paying little mind to what he was putting on. It was clean, and he wasn't planning to go out of the house today, so it didn't particularly matter. He made his way out to the small kitchen and began making some toast. As he poured some juice into a glass, Harry glanced at the clock. It was nearly five in the morning, meaning the paper would be coming soon.

The Daily Prophet had been started up again, though its articles primarily dealt with the trials, searches for missing family members and Death Eaters, and the rebuilding efforts. Harry felt like it was probably a good idea to stay informed, even if he'd rather not get involved for a while. He had already had more than enough stress for the rest of his life, and was definitely not interested in adding more anytime soon.

His toast popped up out of the toaster and he put it on a plate and grabbed his glass of juice. Just as he'd put both on the two-person table in the corner, he heard a tap on the window. He recognized it as the owl delivering his paper, but he still felt slightly jittery at the sudden noise. Harry turned to see a large screech owl hovering by the window, carrying a copy of the Daily Prophet.

He walked over and opened the window, letting the owl swoop into the room. It landed on the counter, and now that it was inside, Harry could see that it was exhausted. Based on the condition of the Ministry, Harry understood why. It probably hadn't had a lot of chances to rest from delivering letters and papers.

Based on that, Harry walked over to his breakfast and tore the crust off of his toast and gave it to the owl, who gave a grateful hoot as it began munching. He also grabbed a saucer out of a cupboard and filled it with fresh water before setting it beside the crusts. Having cared for the owl, he picked up the paper it had dropped and tucked it under his arm.

Harry turned to a jar near the window filled with Knuts that he kept there to pay for deliveries and dug several out that he then placed in the owl's pouch. The owl had finished the crusts at that point, and was gulping down water. When it had its fill, it gave another grateful hoot and spread its wings before swooping back out of the window to get back to work.

After closing the window, Harry made his way back to his breakfast with his paper. He took several bites and drank some of his juice before unrolling the paper and spreading it out in front of him. He froze when he saw the headline and its accompanying picture before leaning in closer to read the article, giving it his full attention.

 

**Malfoy Family Trial**

_The Malfoy family, well known for being a part of You-Know-Who's inner circle, goes on trial today to be judged for their crimes during the war. At the moment, no defending party has been announced, and it is uncertain whether it is by choice or a lack of support from the public. Many in the wizarding community believe that the family is likely to plead guilty in an attempt to lessen the severity of their sentences._

_It appears likely that all three members of the family are going to be sentenced to time in Azkaban for their crimes whether they plead guilty or not, as they currently have no witnesses or attorneys to plead in their favor. The Wizengamot's decision regarding the family will be reached by the end of the day, and the report on the trial will be released in the next issue._

 

 

There was more in the article about the Malfoy family's history with Voldemort and their role in the war that was just finished, but Harry ignored it for the time being. He sat back and thought about the fact that all three of the Malfoys would most likely be in Azkaban within the next several days. The thought didn't please him as much as he thought it would.

He actually felt rather bad for Draco who had been dragged into the whole affair against his will, and for Narcissa who hadn't really done much to participate in the Death Eater campaign, and who had always seemed rather uninterested in it to Harry. He even felt a brief moment of sympathy for Lucius, despite his deep dislike of the man. Towards the end, Lucius had definitely given signs that he wanted out of the Death Eaters in general, and definitely out of Voldemort's inner circle.

Harry glanced back at the paper, and studied the picture of the Malfoys that had been included. Lucius still held his head high, but he looked like it was more for show than actual pride, and Narcissa was standing with her head bowed and eyes lowered despite her apparent composure. Draco, however, had very little of the composure his parents had. He looked both frightened and angry, but what stuck out most in his expression was the resignation. He didn't believe he had a chance, and was accepting his fate.

_It's your fault I had to become a Death Eater! You chose to be a hero!_ The words from Harry's dream resurfaced, along with the image of blazing silver eyes shining in accusation. Unbidden, the memory of falsely uncertain words contrasting with certain eyes came to mind. Bright scarlet against a grimy white even as tear tracks dried. A lowering wand as green light flashed through the air and an expression of shock and horror.

Harry leaned forward again and scanned the article for the time of the trial. It started at eleven sharp this morning. He glanced at the clock, and realized that he must have been reading and lost in thought for longer than he'd realized as it was now a little after seven and the sun was shining through the window.

He bit his lip in indecision, until a second glance at the photograph made up his mind for him. With a sigh, Harry stood from the table. He had a lot to do if he was going to be presentable enough for the trial, and if he was planning to actually be able to help when he got there.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

 

“Draco, keep your head up and do not respond. Do not let them know that they are getting to you.” Narcissa's voice murmured in Draco's ear, drawing his attention away from the swarming reporters and civilians. They were shouting all varieties of questions, insults, and opinions at him and his parents as they walked to the Ministry building. The trio were accompanied by several Aurors who seemed to be there to protect them from the crowd just as much as the other way around. Not that any of the three were planning to injure anyone in the first place, but Draco figured it was probably protocol to have . . . criminals accompanied by an escort.

“But they're  _wrong_ about what they're saying. Some of what they were accusing us of doing was absolutely ridiculous. Why shouldn't I correct them? It's not like things can get much worse for us if they get mad at me for denying it.” The last part was said in a resentful mutter. Narcissa's eyes snapped to him and flashed sharply.

“Despite what you seem to think, things  _can_ still get worse for us. We may have a chance to lessen our sentence, but if we anger the people that chance may slip away. Besides, if their opinions are that ridiculous, it is highly unlikely that we will change their minds with a couple of sentences.” Catching sight of his expression, her eyes softened slightly. “They are merely hoping for a reaction, Dragon. Saying anything at all will only encourage them. It is best to ignore it as much as you can.”

Draco felt the tension in his shoulders ease slightly at the affectionate nickname his mother had given him as a child. He didn't have to like being forced to stay quiet, and he certainly didn't have to like pretending nothing was affecting him, but he would for the sake of his mother. Narcissa must have seen his acceptance, because she turned back to the building, her gaze fixed several yards in front of her feet despite the slight lift in her chin. Her body language said that she was regretful and at the public's mercy, but that she still had her dignity and wouldn't be beaten down by them despite their power over her.

Lucius on the other hand had taken a slightly different approach to the situation. His head was held high, and his expression was almost bored. He didn't look prideful, merely above whatever was happening as if he were viewing it with vague curiosity from behind glass. He looked cool and unruffled by the events around them, but Draco could see the occasional flash of anger in his father's eyes.

Trying to channel both of his parents, Draco schooled his features and lifted his chin a bit. He tried to let the crowds slip away as he attempted to call on the calm and empty mindset he'd used whenever he was around the Dark Lord. Who would have guessed that the safety training for interacting with someone as dangerous as he had been could have practical uses as well?

They entered the Ministry building, and the noise level dropped dramatically as the crowds and most of the reporters were forced to stay outside. The reporters that were allowed inside were the ones who worked for the Ministry and were actually covering the event for them. They made their way into the elevator and went down to the courtrooms with only a couple of curious looks.

When they entered their courtroom, the Wizengamot were already seated. Draco's stomach flipped when the witches and wizards looked down at them, but he didn't allow his anxiety to show as he followed his parents to their seats. People began filtering in from the halls shortly, and the seats behind Draco and his parents filled up quickly.

At eleven sharp, the head of the Wizengamot – a witch Draco thought was probably Amelia Bones – banged her gavel to call for silence. The crowd seemed eager to see what would happen, and went quiet within moments. After that, the only sounds were the rustles of clothing as people got comfortable in their chairs. All attention turned to the three Malfoys as Amelia Bones turned her gaze on them.

“Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy, and Draco Malfoy, you are here before us today under accusations of kidnapping, assault, murder, assisting He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named, assisting Death Eaters, being Death Eaters yourselves, and for using the Unforgivable curses. How do you plead?” Lucius and Draco glanced at Narcissa, and she lifted her head to look Amelia in the eyes as she responded.

“We plead guilty of all accusations, while offering our sincerest apologies and stating our remorse and regret at our actions. We –” Murmuring and outraged mutterings broke out in the audience, and the clamor got loud enough that Amelia had to pound her gavel again to regain silence. She motioned for Narcissa to continue, and she responded with a respectful nod. “My thanks. We are aware that we were in the wrong, and now wish only that the wizarding world may recover from the wounds we helped give it as soon as possible. If that means we are sent to prison, then so be it. That will be the price of the mistakes we have made, and we are willing to pay it.”

Amelia studied them for several moments, her eyes alight with interest. Several members of the Wizengamot were whispering with each other, as were most of the audience members. Draco glanced at his parents in time to see his mother swallow hard and his father's eyes flash in slight fear – something Draco had never seen outside the company of the Dark Lord – but their expressions stayed the same from years of practice. When Amelia began speaking again, everyone went silent.

“It is rather refreshing to have a defendant be so honest, and admit that they are in the wrong. Most lie about their crimes, or if they tell the truth, still believe they are in the right. Your honesty and acknowledgment of your wrongdoings will be taken into consideration for your final sentences. Moving on with matters, it appears that because you pleaded guilty the only thing that remains is to give you your sentences. Any objections to sentencing them at this time?”

There was silence in the courtroom, but Draco hadn't expected anything else. Nobody would be stupid enough to side with the Malfoys so publicly with the reputation they now had. He also couldn't think of anyone who would even care enough to bother speaking out.

“I have one.”

The voice rang out clearly from the seating area behind the Malfoys. There was a stunned silence in the room until everyone erupted into hushed conversation. Draco himself was so surprised that he momentarily dropped his unaffected persona and turned around in his seat to look for the speaker. He caught sight of his parents doing the same thing in the corner of his eye, though they were much more subtle about it.

Draco scanned the crowds for the owner of the voice, and caught sight of movement towards the upper corner of the room. His mouth nearly dropped open when a familiar figure emerged from the crowds. What was Harry Potter, Savior of the wizarding world, doing here in a courtroom objecting to the sentencing of the Malfoys?

As Harry made his way to the front, Draco allowed himself to study the other man. Nobody had seen him since the Dark Lord's defeat, and there had been many rumors as to the reason why and as to where he had been. Draco decided to ignore those for the moment as he tried to get a read on his former rival.

Harry looked exhausted, though he'd done a fairly good job of concealing it. There was also a heaviness on his shoulders that Draco hadn't seen in years. The last time was at the end of fifth year, and Draco still didn't know the reason for it. Harry's fingers also seemed to hover near his wand the entire time he was walking, and the motion seemed unconscious. Draco was shaken out of his observations as Harry reached the center of the room.

“Mr. Potter, what a surprise to see you here. I was unaware you would be attending this case.” Amelia's voice rang out, silencing the crowd once again, though they still murmured a bit in their seats. She was peering down at Harry in interest, and Harry gave a small smile in response, though it didn't reach his eyes, and seemed more weary than anything.

“Madame Bones, nice to see you again. I'm rather surprised to be here myself, as I wasn't planning on coming until around three hours ago. Though,” he admitted, shifting to a more comfortable stance, “that may have more to do with the fact that I didn't know the case was happening today until three hours ago.” At his slightly sheepish admission, a hint of a smile played around Amelia's mouth before she got back to the matter at hand.

“A pleasure to have you here, nonetheless. However, you claimed to have an objection to the Malfoy family's sentencing. May I ask what it is?” Amelia seemed genuinely curious, and Draco could hear the scratching of the reporter's quills as they frantically recorded what was happening. Draco couldn't blame them; he could hardly believe what was happening himself. Harry raised an eyebrow.

“My objection is that this trial has been biased from the start. I'm sure that we both remember the last time that happened?” At Amelia Bones's confused and rather shocked expression, he elaborated. “Sirius Black's imprisonment? He was innocent of his crimes and was sent to Azkaban while the real killer was loose for more than twelve years.”

“Mr. Potter,” Amelia interjected, her eyes narrowing, “surely you are not implying that the Malfoys are innocent of all accusations?” Harry shook his head. So far he hadn't looked once at the people he was defending, for which Draco was actually grateful for. He wasn't sure he wanted to face Harry at the moment, as he was still trying to figure out what was happening and why.

“Not at all. I'm just trying to get across the point that things aren't as black and white as this case is trying to make them seem. At the best of times, the lines between right and wrong, dark and light are blurry. In times of war, those lines disappear almost completely.” Seeing that he had the entire room's attention, Harry continued.

“I'm sure all of you are currently judging the Malfoys for their crimes, and are thinking what awful people they must be. What if I told you that I, the so-called 'Savior of the Wizarding World', am guilty of over half of those same crimes, as well some additional ones?” At the utter silence that met his words, Harry gave a grim smile. “See? Things are not so clear cut anymore, are they?”

“Mr. Potter, I fail to see how this is relevant to the Malfoy family's sentences.” A member of the Wizengamot spoke up from his seat. He looked rather unsettled by Harry's admission, and Draco was beginning to believe that the other man had gone off the deep end. Who admits to crimes they've done when in front of a panel of judges who believe you to be innocent? Harry studied the man for a moment.

“You were at my disciplinary hearing, weren't you? You wanted me kicked out of Hogwarts.” The man flushed slightly, and shifted uncomfortably at being recognized. Draco blinked in surprise. He'd known that Harry got in trouble sometimes, but not that he'd ever been close to getting expelled. He had always thought that the other boy had people eating out of his hand. Draco watched as Harry shook his head, getting back to his point.

“Anyway, my connection is that I am in a unique position to argue the cases for the Malfoy family – especially seeing as it appears nobody else is willing to, or has the information necessary to do so. Let's start with Lucius Malfoy, shall we?” Draco saw his father stiffen in anticipation and surprise. What in the world could Potter say for his father? Draco was well aware that every interaction between the two had been negative.

“Lucius Malfoy was a strong supporter of Voldemort, I will not deny that. However, towards the end, he tried to get out. He resisted giving his Lord his wand, even when asked explicitly to do so. He had begun to change his mind about being a Death Eater by then, but I have seen evidence that he was trying to shed Voldemort's influence long before that moment.” Lucius looked slightly stunned, and Draco felt the same way. Nobody outside the room of Death Eaters knew about the wand incident. How did Potter know that? Apparently Amelia shared their curiosity, and she raised an eyebrow at the Savior.

“How do you know this information, Mr. Potter?” She asked. For the first time, Harry looked rather uncomfortable being at the center of the room. He shifted slightly and cleared his throat before responding.

“Very few people ever knew about this, for both personal reasons and security ones. Whenever Voldemort was feeling very strong emotion, I was . . . able to see through his eyes and feel what he felt.” Anticipating the following questions, he explained further. “When he tried to kill me as a baby, a connection was formed through my scar. It was due to this connection that the 'visions' occurred. It was through one of my visions that I witnessed Voldemort taking his wand.”

“I see.” Amelia said, looking as perturbed by the news as the rest of the room. After several moments, she managed to school her features again. “Is that all, Mr. Potter?” Harry shook his head in response to her question.

“No. That is all for Lucius Malfoy, though not all that I have to say. Moving on to Narcissa Malfoy, I would like to mention that I owe her a Life Debt. Which,” he said, turning to look Narcissa in the eyes as he spoke, facing them for the first time and ignoring the sudden whispers from behind him, “I do intend to pay one way or another.”

Draco turned to look at his mother in shock. He wasn't aware that his mother and Potter had ever had contact without him there. Narcissa appeared stoic as she nodded in acknowledgment to Harry, but Draco could tell that she was surprised their defender had so openly announced the Debt. Draco turned his attention to the front of the room again, and saw that Amelia was frowning in surprise, and that many of the Wizengamot were quietly talking with one another.

“Once again Mr. Potter, I'm afraid I must ask you to clarify.” she said, her tone a little sharper than before. Harry nodded his head graciously, but Draco could see a darkness brush across his features from where he sat.

“Of course. As many of you know, during the Battle of Hogwarts Voldemort called for me to face him alone, claiming that if I did so, he would stop the battle and my friends would be more likely to survive. What fewer people know is that I followed through on his request. I went out into the Forbidden Forest with . . . only a borrowed wand. I found him in a clearing with his Death Eaters, and ended up getting hit by the Killing Curse once again.

“When I woke up again, I was on the ground, and Voldemort had selected Narcissa Malfoy to check if I was alive. She asked for news on Draco, and in return for my response that he was safe, she lied to Voldemort, telling him that I was dead. She has also never been a very active supporter of the Death Eater campaign. In all of my visions and experiences, she has always seemed more concerned with keeping her family safe than helping Voldemort rise to power.”

The various members of the Wizengamot looked appraisingly at the Malfoys, glancing occasionally at Harry. It was clear that both they and the audience did not know what to make of their Savior's defense of the enemy. Amelia was beginning to look rather stressed, though she had a gleam in her eyes that Draco was having trouble deciphering.

“I see.” She said, the lilt in her voice matching the look in her eyes. If Draco didn't know better, he would say that she was rather pleased with the way things were turning out. “I assume that is not all you have to say here, Mr. Potter.” Harry gave his almost-smile at that.

“You are correct Madame Bones. Now that I have said my piece for Narcissa, I intend to move on to my defense of Draco Malfoy. Let me start by saying that Draco never wanted the Dark Mark to begin with, but that he got it because he had no other choice. He was able to put off receiving the Mark for as long as he could, but once Voldemort assigned him the task of killing Dumbledore, he could no longer refuse. That being said, when Draco finally confronted the Headmaster, he had no intention of completing his task by the end of their conversation.”

“What is your proof of this?” A witch from the back row of the Wizengamot called out. Harry glanced up at her, and seemed to understand why he would have to explain himself. Even Draco himself had no idea how Harry knew that piece of information; there had been nobody else in the room but himself and Dumbledore.

“I know this because I was there when it happened, Disillusioned and held in place by Dumbledore's magic. I witnessed Draco disarming the Headmaster, and the following conversation that led to Draco lowering his wand as Dumbledore offered protection from Voldemort. Draco was going to go against orders because, as Dumbledore said, 'he is no killer'.

“This statement is further proven by the fact that when my friends and I were captured and taken to Malfoy Manor by Snatchers working with Death Eaters, he denied his ability to identify me as myself, despite obviously recognizing me. This bought us enough time to escape from Voldemort's followers and eventually end up at the battle at the right time.

“In the battle itself, he actually didn't participate in very much of it. For the first half, he was in one of the rooms at Hogwarts where I ran into him, and for the entire second half of it he took shelter in an abandoned corridor with an injured Goyle. Which is where I told his mother he was in the clearing.

“I believe,” Harry said, after his long speech, “that brings us full circle, and I am finally finished with what I have to say.” A rather stunned silence met his words, and Draco noticed that Madame Bones's lips briefly twitched. Was the witch actually feeling approval at Harry's defense of Draco's family?

“You certainly know how to create an effect, Mr. Potter. In light of this new evidence, the Wizengamot will have to privately convene to determine the sentencing of the Malfoy family. Are there any further objections to sentencing the Malfoy family at this time?” At the resulting silence, Amelia gave a short nod. “The opportunity to speak up has now passed. You are free to walk around until we return, however leaving the courtroom is not allowed for security purposes.”

With that, the Wizengamot filed out of the main room into a private one to the side of their seats. When the door closed behind them, discussions immediately broke out. Draco heard several reporters call out questions to Harry, who was still standing in the center of the room, but the other man simply ignored them. He appeared to be completely at ease, however due to Draco's many years of rivalry with him, he could see the underlying tension and wariness behind the facade. A quiet sigh from his mother drew Draco's attention to his parents.

“Well,” Narcissa remarked quietly, “that was certainly unexpected. I had no idea that the young Potter boy would even be here, much less speaking up for us.” As she spoke, the woman studied Harry, her sharp eyes noticing the hollowness of the boy's features and the cleverly concealed darkness beneath his eyes.

“Indeed.” Draco's father said in his familiar drawl. “Though I do believe he is looking a little worse for the wear.” Narcissa shot her husband a sharp look, and Lucius looked briefly apologetic. Draco had to smother a grin, despite the circumstances. His mother was one of the only people who could rein his father in.

“I'm more surprised that he knew all of that, much less decided that it was worth his time to come here. This is the first time anyone has seen him since the battle at Hogwarts.” Draco commented quietly to his parents. Narcissa was about to respond when the door to the side of the Wizengamot seats opened once again, drawing everyone's attention. The witches and wizards filtered in and once everyone was seated again, Amelia Bones began to speak again.

“The Wizengamot has reached its decision regarding the sentences of the Malfoy family. Lucius Malfoy has been sentenced to five years in Azkaban with the opportunity to be released sooner on house arrest for good behavior. Narcissa Malfoy has been sentenced to house arrest until the Ministry feels that she will no longer be a threat to the public. Draco Malfoy has been sentenced to parole for a year during which he can start no magical or physical conflicts, and he must complete two hundred hours of community service. Any failure to comply with any of these sentences will result in further discipline.”

Amelia Bones then ended the trial, and led the rest of the Wizengamot out of the room. Harry lingered for a moment, turning to study the Malfoys for several seconds before giving them a nod and leaving the room, followed by the shouted questions of the reporters. Draco on his part was stunned, and the expressions on his parents' faces said that they felt similarly.

“Only house arrest?” Narcissa breathed incredulously. “I was fully expecting to go to Azkaban for the rest of my life.” Draco's mother appeared to want to say more, but she was at a loss for words. Draco's father looked slightly fearful at his sentence, but he was more shocked than anything.

“I was fully expecting the same sentence as you, Narcissa. Five years? After everything I did to that boy, he was willing to get me out of Azkaban after five years?” He shook his head. “Unbelievable. He had every reason to want me back in there, yet he helped me get out.” Narcissa nodded in agreement, and turned to her son.

“I'm just glad you never have to see that awful place, Draco. Parole and service is a miracle, so be sure to appreciate it for the blessing it is.” Her words were stern even though her eyes were warm. Draco nodded, unable to speak. On some level, he wanted to protest his parents' sentences – just to keep his family together, if nothing else – however he was fully aware that had Harry not stepped in, they would have been much worse.

Potter's actions still perplexed him. Why would he go to the trouble for his enemies to get off easy? It was times like these that made Draco still frustrated with his rival. Just when he was reaching the point where he thought that nothing the other man did could surprise him, Harry went and pulled a stunt like this. It was rather infuriating, if he was honest. However, that in no way lessened his relief and grudging gratefulness to the dark-haired teen. The sound of someone clearing their throat drew the attention of all three Malfoys to a middle aged wizard standing before them.

“Misters Malfoy and Missus Malfoy?” he said in a thick Scottish accent. “My name is Sorvin Serregus. I'm the supervisor for your case, and will be determining whether or not any changes need to occur for your situation, whether they be good or bad. Let's have a seat, shall we? We have much to discuss.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

 

Harry walked out of the courtroom and released a sigh, feeling some of his tension disperse. He had always hated being the center of attention, and the scene back there was no exception. Still, he knew that he'd had to do it. The Malfoys definitely weren't his favorite people, but that didn't mean they deserved to go to Azkaban for being forced to stay in a war they no longer wanted to be a part of.

“That was a good thing you did back there, Mr. Potter.”

Harry's eyes snapped up from the ground to see Amelia Bones and, surprisingly, Professor McGonagall. The elderly witch looked slightly more worn than when he'd last seen her, though there was a glint of life in her eyes that hadn't been there before.

“Professor! I – what are you doing here?” Harry asked, blinking at the pair of witches in confusion. “I thought you would still be at Hogwarts working on rebuilding the school. Is something wrong?” The Headmistress smiled at him fondly as she responded.

“No, Mr. Potter, nothing is wrong. I am still supervising the reconstruction of the school, which is coming along well, if rather slowly. I am here at the request of an old friend of mine, a man by the name of Sorvin Serregus. He asked a favor of me, and I accepted.” McGonagall scrutinized Harry for a moment, the lines of her face deepening slightly in concern as her eyes roamed his features. She hesitated for a moment, until she decided to continue.

“Mr. Potter – ” she began, until Harry cut her off.

“Harry.”

“Pardon?” she asked, looking somewhat startled. Harry gave her a thin smile, the only kind he seemed capable of these days, and shifted his weight slightly awkwardly.

“Call me Harry. I think, after everything, that would be alright. Don't you?” His professor studied him for a moment, then broke out into a smile of her own. It was weaker than he had seen it in the past, which was only to be expected, however it was brighter than most that he had seen since the final battle.

“Very well, Harry. In that case, you may call me Minerva, though I will request that you abstain from using the nickname your father and Sirius insisted on calling me.” The reminder was almost enough to startle a sharp bark of laughter out of Harry, but the amusement died out before a single breath of air could leave his lungs.

“I'd almost forgotten they used to call you 'Minnie', what with everything that's happened.” He paused for a moment as memories began to chip away at the mental wall he had put around them. After he managed to push them back again, Harry refocused his attention on Profe – on Minerva. “I believe you were about to say something, Minerva, before I interrupted?”

“Oh yes,” The Headmistress blinked as her attention returned to their conversation as well. “It occurred to me recently that Hogwarts was as much of a home to you as it was to me. I wished to extend the invitation to stop by the castle whenever you would like, whether you choose to assist in rebuilding or not. I wish for you to know that whether the castle is completely whole or not, you will always find a home there, should you desire it.”

Harry didn't know how to respond. There was a tight feeling in his chest, and his eyes felt strangely hot. He tipped his head down, allowing his unruly hair to hide his expression as the most emotion he'd felt since the end of the war, besides fear from his dreams, coursed through his veins. He knew Minerva had noticed and was pretending not to as she suddenly took an intense interest in a nearby statue. Harry allowed himself a moment more before he forced himself back into composure.

“Thank you.” His voice was hoarser than he would have liked, but when he next spoke it had almost returned to normal. “I'll keep that in mind. Now, I apologize, Madam Bones, for not addressing you sooner.”

Minerva's gaze was knowing, but she said nothing about his obvious change of subject. Amelia looked as serious as ever, though Harry thought he could see a hint of sympathy in her gaze as he turned from his professor to her.

“No worries, Mr. Potter, I understand that your attention was occupied elsewhere.” Harry suddenly found himself under scrutiny, and had to fight the instinct to step back and create some distance between himself and the witch. “You always manage to surprise me, despite how many times it has happened by now.”

“Er, sorry?” Harry wasn't entirely sure what the correct response to her comment would be. Madam Bones chuckled slightly, and Harry was surprised to learn she even could. From the look the Headmistress was giving the other witch, it seemed Minerva was surprised as well.

“That was a compliment, Mr. Potter.” Sobering slightly, she continued. “I have no doubt that today you saved three more lives, besides the ones you already have by winning the war. Don't forget that anytime soon.” Harry's insides squirmed, the memory of his nightmares surfacing just enough to make him uncomfortable. He flicked his eyes to the side, and didn't respond.

“Harry,” the use of his name caused his eyes to snap back to the stern witch in surprise, startled by the softer look on her face and the slightly gentler tone, “if there's one thing that I have learned about war, it is that you cannot save everyone, so you save who you can. There will be those who will tell you that you shouldn't have saved the Malfoys. _Don't listen to them_. Understand?”

Harry knew he was gaping slightly, but he couldn't bring himself to care. After a moment he realized that she was still waiting for a response, and his mouth snapped shut as he gave her a single nod. He felt distinctly uncomfortable, yet also a sense of relief that he hadn't realized he needed. Madam Bones nodded, seemingly satisfied for the moment.

“Good. Well then, I must be off. The girls are waiting for me back home, and it is nearing the time I said I would return.” She shifted her purse around and dug through it for a moment before taking out a card and handing it to him. Harry glanced at it and saw what appeared to be an address, written in a practical black font. “This is my Floo address. Use it if you ever need something.”

With that, she began walking down the hallway towards the elevator. Harry stared at the card for a moment longer in silence, hearing her footsteps echo throughout the corridor. Seized by a sudden sense of urgency, he turned around to call after her.

“Madam Bones!” At the sound of her name, the Head of the DMLE turned to face him, her eyebrow raised. “Could you let Susan and Hannah know that I'm glad they are okay? And . . . thank you, for this I mean.” Harry held up the card, feeling somewhat awkward. After a moment, some of Amelia's rigidity dropped, and Harry was suddenly aware that she was more than just the Head of the DMLE; she was also a woman with a life and a family.

“I'll be sure to pass along the message, Mr. Potter, thank you. As for the card, I was very fond of your parents. Had circumstances been different, you might have ended up living with Susan and me. As that didn't happen, I'd say this is the next best thing, wouldn't you?”

Without waiting for a response, she continued down the hall, disappearing out of sight several moments later. Harry stared after her with a mild surprise before turning back to Minerva, who looked slightly stunned at the direction their conversation had gone. He hesitated for a second, then asked the question he'd had since the Headmistress had first brought the subject up.

“So, you said something about rebuilding Hogwarts?” Minerva smiled, seeing where his train of thought was going.

“Yes, I did. There are several Ministry assigned helpers, however due to the chaos that He-Who- _Voldemort_ , I mean,” Harry was slightly impressed by the fierceness with which the elderly witch said Voldemort's name, “left behind, they couldn't spare very many. As it is, most of the people working on the castle are volunteers, and even still there are very few of us. So many people are still gathering up the fragments of their previous lives and grieving the ones they have lost; they aren't terribly interested in the school at the moment.”

Harry considered her, seeing for the first time since they began speaking the faint traces of her own grief in her expression. He wondered who she had lost to this war, and the last, for that matter. However, instead of wallowing in her pain, she had managed to funnel it into putting her life back together, seemingly intent on making it even better than before. At that moment, Harry wished he had some of her strength within himself, as well.

“Perhaps I might be able to lend you a hand. It would be good to get out of my head for a while, and my house as well. I don't think I've left it since I moved in, other than to get groceries and come here.” Minerva looked at him with a hint of worry in her eyes.

“You are taking care of yourself, aren't you Harry? I've spoken to Mrs. Weasley several times over the past few months to check in, and she mentioned that she hadn't seen you since the Battle. Frankly, she seemed rather worried about you, and she mentioned that the others were, too.”

A flash of Ginny's tear-streaked face suddenly flashed through Harry's mind, followed by Ron's stricken look, Mrs. Weasley's wails of grief, George's inconsolable yells, Fred's prone body. A tidal wave of guilt hit Harry directly in the stomach, and he had to take a minute to catch his breath again and wrestle his emotions back into their box. This was the main reason he wanted – no, _needed_ a distraction. It wasn't enough to live through all of their deaths again at night, he also had to relive them during the day and hope he didn't give away that something was wrong.

“I'm fine, Minerva,” he finally said, looking her square in the eye. “I've been giving them their space to grieve. They lost a family member and went through a lot of hardship over the past year. They don't need an outsider butting in at the moment.”

It was clear that Minerva wanted to press the issue, but Harry had clearly drawn a line, and there was nothing else she could do. After visibly warring with herself for several minutes, she let out a sigh, and shook her head.

“Very well. But don't forget that you went through hardships as well, and that you have a right to be with _your_ family as well, even if they aren't related to you by blood.” Seeing Harry's expression begin to close off further, Minerva finally moved on. “Your help rebuilding the castle would be much appreciated, though, thank you for the offer.” Harry gave a thin smile, glad to finally be moving back to the original topic.

“Sure. Just let me know what needs doing and I'll see if I can be of any help.”

 


End file.
